Do you Journey

"Emanuel Swedenborg, he is different than most!"

Expressing the anger, showing the Rage,

the things that I've held from such a small age.

I thought when I spoke of the Ill's of my family,

that people would react with cause and affect.

The way that it's taken is as if you should be done.

Like nothing had happened, no one fired the gun.

A phase that has happened, bad things, oh well.

It's the callous behavior and the lonely hotels.

Can you imagine that your hearts are so cold,

that all you imagine is time is your well.

Well on 9/11,  the day the Twins Fell,

the death of so many is remembered so well.

I have heard who is left repeat without sort,

time does not heal, it just creates remorse.

I am sorry it happened, but glad that the lives,

now can confess that time does not heal,

it only gets worse.

No answers can question,

what I don't understand,

I'm looking at my dead body,

I am no more than then.

I was so much younger,

my memory is good.

But to sort out what I am stuck staring out,

just simply can't be good.

The years in between don't help, they do hinder.

What did I do to cause such a sinner,

to do such a thing as to take my life clear.

I stood and I'm stuck on the outside of myself.

I tried jumping in, but it seems I was late.
This thing streaming by was so quick, that I missed.

The more that it happened,

in fright or dismay.

I abandoned myself, for I just couldn't stay.

Confusion was blurry, I caught up with myself at night in my bed, the safety of head.

I woke in the morning, I was back inside too, I was right with myself,

I left what was wrong with absolutely all you.

The more frequent the danger,

the more bold I became,

the worse my escapes from myself, like a game.

Upon this one day, I never returned, 

I left what I knew for what was not you.

I felt that my turn to the left would be best.
I fright it did cause the trouble, a pause.

I may have been gone, it's called journey's that are long.

Most men take them in life at ages when old.

Mine began when I was so very young,

 I cannot remember a day without this kind of adventure, dismay?

To me it is natural, a state of affairs,

I kept it all private it seemed wise and not fair.

In the end it was prudent for me and for you.

Now, there are Men that speak of such things,

but they were born January 29, 1688,

lived 'till 1772, wrote lots of books

and journeyed some too.

It would have been cool to talk to him now

but as time can tell,
we missed one another it's the way that it goes,

I think I got hosed.

I write to warn you of what will come for you too,

you will not listen, it bothers me some.

A Sin Board is something that we all do possess,

it's how they keep track of your record; Infest.

I'm not very old to speak on such things,

I don't trust you, 'cause you lie with your minds,

speak truth with your words and direct all this mess,

inside of your head and say that its best.

It is what you do that makes me write more,

You want to blame others instead of yourself.

A singular creature, I am that I swear,

possessed with no spirits, that would cause me a scare.

Cruising along and singing this song,

is not the crime but you want me gone.

I threaten your Soul, your Heart is not there,

what I see that is left is money and dare. 

It is why I trust a man I don't know from this land,

his country is honorable and they are not bland.

To question my motives is to upset the flow,

for I'm not a singer, I riddle from below.